


2. Huddling for warmth

by SlyKing



Series: Winter Prompt Challenge [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cold-Blooded Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Hates the Cold (Good Omens), Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Idiots in Love, M/M, Winter, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlyKing/pseuds/SlyKing
Summary: “You-... Oh! But you are completely freezing!”"Ah. Uh... Yes. You know, winter. 'Sorry." He mumbled, taking his hands out and putting them back in his pockets.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Winter Prompt Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040085
Kudos: 30





	2. Huddling for warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Winter Prompt Challenge on the tumblr of [witcher and his bard](https://witcher-and-his-bard.tumblr.com/post/634710612632551424/winter-prompt-challenge-i-wanted-to-make-a)  
> 2.Huddling for warmth
> 
> English is NOT my first langage!  
> Sorry for the grammar or conjugation errors that may result... Feel free to report any mistake! :)
> 
> Comments always make me extremely happy! ❤

Winter was not Crowley’s favorite season. From the ice on the road that made the wheels of his Bentley slide and asked him for some more demonic miracles. Screaming decorations from all over the city as the holiday season approaches. Gifts. The cold. The cold! As a snake, Crowley couldn’t stand the cold. Generally, during the winter, he wrapped himself in blankets and slept as much as possible. This year, however, he had _promised_ Aziraphale to come decorate the bookshop with him. He couldn’t deny the angel anything, anyway. That or something else. But that didn’t stop Crowley from cursing him (not too strong, and without much conviction, but for the simple pleasure of grumbling). That’s why he was out in the middle of December, his hands frozen in the pockets of his black jacket.

By 5:00, it was almost night. The bookshop was like a halo in the growing darkness; the lights coming out of the windows had a warm and comforting appeal. This vision was enough to soften the heart of Crowley, whose bad mood was in part blown away. He crossed the road and pushed the bookshop door.

"Hullo, Aziraphale!" he exclaimed, closing the door behind him.

The room smelled, as usual, old books (and dust and mould, for Aziraphale did everything in his power to discourage potential buyers), but there was also a sweet smell of honey, cinnamon and tea in the air. Crowley walked through the shop. Aziraphale was sitting at his desk, a cold cup next to him. Crowley snapped and the cup warmed, releasing a slight volute of smoke.

"Oh!" Aziraphale jumped up and turned to him with his face illuminated. My dear, than-.'  
“Don’t thank me.” Crowley immediately stopped him by rolling his eyes.

Aziraphale straightened himself up and approached him and took hold of one of his hands ; a habit that his angel had taken to greet him these days (not that Crowley disliked it, far from it, but _ngk_.) He therefore let Aziraphale go out with his hands in his pockets to squeeze them in his own, but instead of his usual delighted air he seemed rather suddenly concerned. Crowley frowned. Something wrong?

'What?' he asked him immediately.  
Aziraphale placed his warm hand on his cheek and Crowley instinctively closed his eyes under the touch. He let out a small hiss.  
“You-... Oh! But you are completely freezing!”  
"Ah. Uh... Yes. You know, winter. 'Sorry." He mumbled, taking his hands out and putting them back in his pockets.

Aziraphale blinked several times before striking his forehead slightly. He gently pushed Crowley onto the couch before picking up something from a small shelf and coming back. He sat next to him and wrapped a wide tartan blanket around the demon’s shoulders.

“What is it… Are you serious?”  
“I’m not going to let you freeze to death, though.”  
“I’m going to warm up, it’s really not neces-”  
“Hush, now.”

Aziraphale then sat beside Crowley and passed an arm around him to bring him closer. Crowley stopped breathing, did not move more than a millimeter for fear of breaking this moment, of making the wrong gesture at the wrong moment, of seeing Aziraphale move away. It was the kiss that Aziraphale laid on his temple that tore off an unintelligible stammer, some onomatopoeias and probably triggered a cardiac arrest.  
He gently dropped his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder, carefully, without a sudden gesture in case. Aziraphale let him do this without pushing him back, pressed him more against him. Once completely snuggled up against his angel, Crowley’s shoulders relaxed. Aziraphale exuded a warmth more pleasant than any other. Crowley closed his eyes.

"Are you feeling better?"  
“M-Much better, yessss…” He hissed before closing his eyes as his heart went away, beating so hard against his chest that the whole city of London must have heard him.

He heard and felt the laughter of Aziraphale against him and it tore away a smile (which he later denied having had).

Winter was not such a bad season after all.


End file.
